


bruises and comfort

by vannral



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Injury, Kissing, M/M, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 09:35:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13431948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vannral/pseuds/vannral
Summary: After a random battle, Caleb's less than fine and Fjord's there, helping.





	bruises and comfort

**Author's Note:**

> My first Critical Role fic ever and I'm nervous so please have this before I lose my nerve completely :D

Caleb’s got trouble breathing. Every single bronchus _hurts._

He trembles, convulses violently with the sheer _agony_ of being unable to breathe properly, he can taste metallic blood in his mouth, he can _feel_ his body being made of scars and wounds and bruises and _pain, and - and -_

_and Fjord’s here._

Caleb closes his eyes, draws another deep, shaky breath and clutches Fjord’s wrist with white knuckles.

     “Easy there”, the half-orc murmurs, gauging closely Caleb’s expression. “A deep breath. C’mon. You can do it. It’s all right. Just breathe. Please?”

Caleb’s lungs are on _fire._

Breathing _hurts._ Burns his chest, like inhaling _flames, it hurts −_

And Fjord’s comforting, warm presence press against Caleb, and it almost feels like balm on ravaged flesh. He can almost forget. He can almost _be._ Be himself, just be _Caleb._ What an amazing thing, after so long.

     “Caleb?” Fjord’s deep voice takes a sharper note. “Hey, darlin’, wake up. Don’t nap.”

Caleb wheezes a weak, _wet_ laugh. “Yeah, it’s - _not_ a good idea. How ‘m I lookin’?” he slurs.

     “Gorgeous”, Fjord murmurs without hesitating, and his claw brushes tenderly along Caleb’s bruised jawline. “Hey there, handsome.”

     “You’re just _sayin’...”_ Caleb coughs and can’t summon enough energy to rise from the ground. “Everyone else okay?” Sudden panic slams into him and he bolts up so quickly that he nearly bashes his head into Fjord’s. “Nott?”

     “She’s okay! She’s okay, Caleb, she’s all right. Jester’s got her.” Fjord takes Caleb’s head between his calloused, large palms so that they can look at each other. “She’s fine.”

Relief almost knocks him unconscious. “Thank gods”, he whispers and slumps against Fjord’s chest. He can feel the steady beat of Fjord’s heart. _Thump-thump-thump. Alive._

     “You got nearly cleaved in half”, Fjord murmurs, his rough palm settling on the nape of Caleb’s neck.

     “Yeah, well, let’s add it to the list, then...”

     “Planning to expand that list, then? Not really that funny, Caleb.”

     “Sorry. Gallow’s humour.”

     “Hmm.”

Fjord brushes his thumb across Caleb’s cheekbone, so impossibly gently that it nearly steals Caleb’s breath away (or it would’ve, if Caleb’s didn’t have enough trouble breathing anyway, but that’s neither here nor there.) 

     “Feel like moving yet?”

     “Honestly? Not really.”

     “Mind if I carry you, then?”

Caleb’s fuzzy brain barely comprehends what the hell Fjord’s asking. “Ugh, _no._ Wait a moment, I’ll - I’ll get up, I swear.”

     “Hmm.”

     “What’s...what’s with that tone?”

     “Nothin’ really, not really liking the idea of you staggering on by yourself, though.”

     “Staggering, huh? Well, I’ll put my best effort into it, I assure you.”

Fjord chuckles, and the deep, warm tone rumbles into Caleb’s chest, vibrating and _comforting._

     “You always do. C’mon, don’t be stubborn.”

     “You’re being ridiculous, I’m better, honestly _.”_

Fjord pins him another unimpressed look. Then, without responding, he hauls a surprised Caleb into his arms like he weighs _nothing_.

     “There.”

Caleb gives up. Whatever. _Seriously._ He’s too tired to complain now. “...okay, then.”

Fjord presses a gentle kiss on Caleb’s hair as he heads toward the camp, where Jester’s apparently done patching the others up and is currently teaching Nott the wonders of pick-pocketing, Jester-style.  

Caleb’s breathing grows deeper and steadier, the pain subsides into a dull ache. He’s just so _tired_.

Fjord settles him so very carefully on blankets, ruffles his hair and asks very quietly: “Want some water? Food?”

     “...water would be nice. Fjord?”

     “Hmm?”

Caleb gathers all his strength and closes the distance between them. The kiss is simple, but not quite chaste; messy and uncoordinated, and it tastes of relief, _comfort,_ happiness of being alive, _being here,_ together. Fjord makes a surprised grunt in the back of his throat, but melts into the touch and nips Caleb’s bottom lip so very gently.

     “I’ll bring you some water. Try to catch some sleep, okay?”

     “...okay. Thanks.”

Fjord’s amber-like, warm gaze flickers with fondness. “You’re welcome.”

+ 

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh I'm not well-versed in D&D almost at all but I'm super into Critical Role now, so... if you see stupid mistakes, please be patient with me. Also english isn't my first language, so if you spot any grammar mistakes, please tell me about those too. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.


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